


i'll open the door to heaven or hell

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "There's one hard, fast rule in this universe. What lives . . . dies. So the next time you or your brother bite it, well, you're not going to Heaven . . . Or Hell. One of us -- and, Lord, I hope it's me -- we're gonna make a mistake and toss you out into the Empty. And nothing comes back from that."-Billie the Reaper (11x02: Form and Void)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98
Collections: Anonymous





	i'll open the door to heaven or hell

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "O Death". 
> 
> there IS a major character death in this fic but since it happens in the first five seconds and also the entire fic is told from said character's point of view and also (spoiler alert) the character comes back to life, i didn't tag MCD. just FYI.

Dean stands there, impaled by rebar, blood pouring out of his lungs and mouth, and he tells Sam several somethings, none of which mean anything, except for this most important task:

Do _not_ bring Dean back. Don’t even try. 

Sam cries, a lot, but Dean makes him promise. Then Dean coughs, lets blood bubble out of his mouth, winces in pain, says, “Take care of my dog, okay?” and then “I love you, Sammy,” and then he dies. 

In general, Dean isn’t afraid of death, but it still hurts. It has hurt almost every time, which sucks. Dean likes to take it as a reminder to not do it too much. 

He steps away from the rebar and watches Sam cry on the ground. 

“Jeez,” he says. 

“Hello!” another voice says, and Dean turns around to see a blonde young woman wearing a black dress. She waves. “I’m Candace, your reaper. I’ve come to escort you to the next phase.”

“Yeah, that’s a no,” Dean says. Candace raises her eyebrow and looks around condescendingly. 

“Okay,” she says. “You want to become a spirit? Go vengeful? Get hunted down in a few years? I’m sure your brother would _love_ to burn down your impala.”

“Hey,” Dean says, sour at the idea of anyone threatening his baby, however hypothetical it might be, and also kind of miffed at the implication that that’s what his soul would be tied to. She’s right _,_ obviously, but some reaper he’s never met shouldn’t know that. “I’m not gonna become a vengeful spirit.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but everyone does,” Candace says. Dean shakes his head. 

“No--you don’t--I don’t wanna stay here,” he says. “I want you to open a door to the Empty.”

Candace’s eyebrows fly up. 

“Woah,” she says. “Are you insane? Why would I do that? Also, what makes you think I can do that?”

“Back when Billie was a reaper, she promised to throw me in next time I died,” Dean says. “That was a couple deaths ago, but the point remains.”

Candace crosses her arms. 

“Okay,” she says. “Fair point. My other question still stands.”

“Am I insane?” Dean says, trying to grin. “Probably.” Candace huffs, her hair blowing away from her forehead at the motion. 

“ _No_ ,” she says. “Why do you want to go to the Empty?”

“I left something in there,” Dean says. “‘And I want it back.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Candace says. “You know that once you go in, you can’t come back, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Dean says. He can think of worse things than being stuck in the Empty forever. Candace scrunches up her nose and eyes him, hands on her hips. He’s quite a bit taller than her, so her head is tilted way up. It’s kind of funny, except that she has all the power here. 

“Well,” she says, finally. “Death is currently dead, so I guess there’s nobody to get me in trouble if I do this.” She reaches out and grabs his arm, gesturing into the air. Across the way from them, a slick black hole opens in the air, dripping that same black goo that took--that Dean has seen before. 

“Alright,” Dean says, clenching than unclenching his fists. He steps towards the opening. 

“Need any other ridiculous favors?” Candace asks, crossing her arms again. 

“Nah,” Dean says, taking a step forward. “That should be it.”

He steps into the portal to the sound of Sam’s sobbing, and he doesn’t look back. 

\--

From descriptions, Dean had thought the Empty would be like a black void, stretching on endlessly, but instead it is more like a cave, with writhing walls and a squishy floor. It’s kind of gross, actually. 

Each step the ground clings to Dean’s boots, but he trudges on anyway, determined to walk forever, if he has to. He’s dead, he has eternity.

He wonders why it looks different in here--maybe everyone perceives it different, like Heaven? But Dean had been expecting something else, so why…?

He shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except walking through this tunnel, except finding him. 

Dean exhales, even though he doesn’t need to breathe. He’s not sure how long he’s been walking. 

_Cas_ , he thinks. _You got your ears on?_ For a minute, he’s not sure what else to say. _I sure hope your feathery ass is awake, ‘cause I’m not sure how I’m supposed to wake you, if you aren’t. Yeah, that’s right. I’m coming to find you. Brace yourself, ‘cause you’re about to get an earful._

He keeps walking. The walls seem like they might be closing in. They probably aren’t. 

_I’m sorry. I’m not gonna yell at you._

_Well. I might._

_Seriously, Cas, what the hell? Who says something like--like that, then dies?_

Is the ground getting clingier?

_Whatever, man, you’re a fucking dumbass if you think I’m not gonna come get you. I’ve been to Heaven, Hell, Purgatory--the Empty’s just the next stop on the death tour._

Dean exhales a laugh to himself.

_Speaking of death, I’m not exactly alive. Telling you now so you won’t be mad when I get there. But hey, you aren’t exactly alive either. It’s only fair._

Okay, the walls are definitely closing. Dean eyes them, but there’s nowhere else for him to go. He looks back, and it’s not funnelling--those walls are narrower, as well. 

Getting squished would kind of be a dampener, but Dean doesn’t care. He keeps walking. 

_Cas...I hope you know that I...well. I’ll tell you in person, huh?_

Dean keeps walking, and he keeps praying. He tells Cas about defeating Chuck, and about Jack’s new power, and about Miracle, and how she wasn’t allowed on the bed but Dean’s gotten soft in his old age and now she sleeps with her head on his feet, and how Eileen basically moved into the bunker, and how he took Claire out to dinner, last week, and she’d hugged him for a good long while before he dropped her off. 

_I know I already told you all this,_ he prays. _But I don’t know if you could hear me. God, Cas, I hope you can hear me now._

The tunnel he’s walking through is getting smaller. He’s hunched over now, trying not to touch the sticky, gooey walls. He doesn’t want to know what it feels like. 

_Hey, Cas, I’m in this gross tunnel. You said the Empty was a void, but that’s not what I’m getting. It’s also shrinking, which is weird. What’ll happen when it’s all the way shrunk?_

Dean tries not to imagine being enveloped in this stuff, and keeps walking. The walls are still vibrating, moving slightly. They look agitated, kind of. The ground moves slightly under his feet. Fucked up, Dean notes, but he’s done grosser. 

The ground is definitely more clingy. It doesn’t want him to lift his feet. Each step is a struggle. Every day of Dean’s life was a struggle--what’s a bit more with death? 

_Cas,_ Dean prays. _You’d better be close, buddy, I’m starting to get a little freaked out._

Dean is bent at the waist, now, the ceiling too low. He’s about to give up and start crawling. He realizes he hasn’t seen _any_ bodies, even though this place must be full of them--Dean is intimately aware of how many demons and angels have died in the last ten years. Probably more aware than most. Maybe the Empty is mad at him. 

_When I sold my soul, all those years ago, I didn’t really think I’d end up here._ _I’m probably the only human who’s ever been in here--like Purgatory all over again. I think I liked Purgatory better, Cas._

Dean pauses. 

_Wait...Cas, were you_ jealous _of Benny? Come on, man. You know you--you’re family. Benny was just a friend._

_I know I never said it, but you, Sammy, and Jack--nothing is more important than you guys. Cas, I hope you know that. I hope you--_

_Were you really not happy? Was that--was that really the first time you ever experienced real happiness?_

Dean exhales. The sound of his breath is loud in the silence. He falls to his knees and carefully puts his hands on the ground. It’s kind of like silly putty but wetter and thinner. Not too bad, though. Not too bad. 

_Glad I’m not claustrophobic, Cas. I’m crawling, now. Think I’ve crawled through grosser, though. Even if I hadn’t, it’s worth it. You’re worth it, Cas._

_I didn’t say this earlier, but, um, during dinner with Claire...I dunno what she was thinking. She said that she didn’t want to lose any more dads. I think she--I think she meant she wanted me to stick around._ Dean laughs. It sounds like a sob. _Guess I didn’t...God. I promise I didn’t commit suicide, Cas. I would’ve stayed, for her. I would’ve, I swear, but I guess I always let people down. I am so sorry, Cas. I should’ve…_

The roof is pressing down on Dean’s back. Crawling is even harder than walking. Dean’s head is forced down, and he can kind of see what’s ahead of him. 

_I don’t want to get squished, Cas,_ Dean prays. _But--it’s not like I can get deader._

Dean drops into an army crawl, dragging himself forward with his elbows. He thinks he’s making progress in inches, but it’s fine. It’s fine. Anything to get closer. 

_I never prayed before you, you know? You said I didn’t have faith, and you were right, but oh, Cas, I always had faith in you. You gave me something to believe in._

_One time--a long time ago--someone on a case overheard me praying, and she asked if I was religious. Cas, I said yes._

Just ahead, the ceiling is dripping into the ground, black slime flowing and writhing. Dean will be stuck here, maybe forever. 

_This isn’t the end, you hear me? I’m gonna--I’m gonna tell you in person. I’m gonna find you._

Dean sees another color, just ahead. The end of the tunnel is beige. Like khaki. 

Like a trenchcoat.

Dean reaches out his hand. 

_Amen,_ he prays, and he makes contact.

\--

Someone turns on the lights, and Dean’s eyes fly open. 

He’s in a bright white room, somehow. He turns a little and sees a blackish lump in front of him, his hand holding on tight. His hand is also black, and upon inspection he finds that he is covered in black goo from head to toe. 

Dean pulls his hand away from the black lump, leaving behind a handprint where goo hasn’t covered the other shape. The place Dean’s hand had been is beige, and Dean’s heart leaps into his throat and he turns the shape--the man--around.

“Cas,” Dean says, voice dry. How long had he been in the Empty? “Cas, come on.”

Cas gasps, and his eyes open, the blue striking against the black goo of the Empty. 

“Dean,” he says, then he blinks. “Dean?”

“Yeah, man, it’s me,” Dean says, sudden tears welling up, and he laughs and throws his arms around Cas, uncaring of the goo. 

Cas holds him back. 

“Dean, what are we covered in?” he asks, and Dean pulls away. 

“The Empty, I think,” he says, and then he looks around. They are on the edge of a white room, with a pale grey carpet a few feet away from them. Across the way, there are various beanbags on the ground, and bright fairy lights are strung along the crease between wall and ceiling. “Dude, where are we?”

“I think...I think it may be Heaven,” Cas says, sounding shocked, and Dean looks back at him. He can’t really interpret his expression, goo-covered as it is. 

And then, suddenly, they aren’t alone. 

Jack is sprawling on a beanbag as if he’d always been there, shoeless and his socked feet crossed at the ankle. 

“Hi!” he says, and then neither Dean nor Cas are covered in black goo anymore. Dean looks down at himself, sees the same outfit he died in, minus the bloodstains. Cas is, of course, still in his perpetual trenchcoat-and-tie.

“Jack,” Cas says, and Jack stands up from his spot and walks over to them, sitting on the carpet beside them. Cas drags him into a hug and Jack allows it, even hugs him back. When Cas releases him, Dean can’t help but follow suit, holding his kid close. 

“What happened?” Dean asks. 

“Well,” Jack says. “The point of the Empty is that it’s, well, empty. When you, a human soul, went in there, while it was already unstable from when I ‘made it loud’, you were able to fill it up. Once it was full, I pulled you two here and put it back to sleep.”

“I...I what? How did I fill it?”

“With your prayers,” Cas breathes, looking at Dean like he’s--like he’s something holy, something worthy of worship. “You...I heard you. You said it got smaller--more full--as you kept walking.”

“And I was praying that whole time,” Dean says, running his hand through his hair. “Damn. Okay.”

“Dean, you saved me,” Cas says, and he reaches for Dean. Dean goes willingly, letting Cas hold him tight, tucking his face into the space between Cas’s neck and shoulder. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean mumbles. “I just wanted to...to be with you.”

And Cas pulls away, hands on Dean’s shoulders, face in a scowl. 

“You _died?”_ he says. Dean wilts. 

“A little,” he says. “Just, you know. A bit.”

“Vampire nest,” Jack says helpfully. “Rebar to the chest.” Cas’s glare turns to Jack, instead. 

“And you didn’t save him?”

“Hey, it’s not his fault,” Dean says. “Come on.”

He reaches out a hand and touches Cas’s cheek and Cas softens. 

“I suppose I should’ve known,” Cas says. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. “I’m sorry.”

And he is, he _is_ sorry--he had meant to live, was going to try--he had vague ideas of a house with a yard, maybe, a real job. Somewhere he could play fetch with Miracle--somewhere close to Sammy, and Eileen, and someplace he could visit Claire and Jody and the girls. He’d known it wouldn’t have been perfect, but it would’ve been _something._

“I’m sorry, too,” Cas says. “It was unfair to leave like that.”

“Damn right it was,” Dean says, scowling. Jack clears his throat and Dean turns to him, face burning. 

“Sorry,” Jack says. “I promise that whatever you choose, you’ll be together and you can finish your conversation later.”

“Whatever we choose?” Cas repeats. 

“Yeah,” Jack says. “You can stay here, in Heaven, and see everyone you love again. I’ve fixed Heaven, so it’s not so lonely anymore. You could visit Mary, or your Bobby or your Charlie, or your other friends…”

Dean can picture it--crowded inside the Roadhouse, Ellen behind the bar, Jo and Charlie and Ash and Kevin and Mom, Bobby and Rufus bickering somewhere behind him, Cas by his side. But…

“Or?” Dean says. “You said we had a choice.” Jack dips his head in a shallow nod. 

“Yes,” he says. “You can go back. To Earth, I mean.”

“Back?” Dean says, wanting that with a desperation that surprises him. “But I thought you wouldn’t interfere.”

“No,” Jack says. “Not on Earth. But I can in Heaven.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can give Cas back his wings,” Jack says. “And _he_ can bring you back. If he wants to. Free will, and all.”

“Really?” Dean asks, and he turns to look at Cas. “Cas…can we go home? Please?”

The look Cas gives him is indescribable. He nods. Jack beams.

“I hoped you’d pick that,” Jack says. “I think Earth has a lot left for you guys. And Heaven’s not quite perfect yet--I need another fifty years or so before you can come back. Can you handle that?”

Dean kind of wants to laugh and kind of wants to cry. 

“We’ll try, kiddo,” he says. Jack smiles, then turns to Cas. 

“Thank you,” Cas says quietly. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” Jack says, and then he kind of nods at Cas and there’s a stretch of white light, and Cas’s eyes glow and the room darkens and the shadow of glorious feathered wings stretch on the wall behind him. Dean gets almost uncomfortably warm at the sight, something impossibly fond tangled in his chest. 

“Hell yeah,” he says, and Cas rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he says, and he stands up, reaches down to pull Dean up next to him. Jack leaps to his feet and pats down his lap as if dusting off imaginary dirt. 

“I’ve got things to do,” he says. “Take your time, okay?”

“Jack,” Dean says, and he reaches out a hand, pulls his kid into another hug. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You can keep up your non-interference policy and still come home for dinner sometimes.”

“Okay,” Jack says, eyes wide. “I will.”

He hugs Dean again, then hugs Cas, and then nods at them, and then he’s gone. 

Dean rounds on Cas. 

“Hey,” he says. “Before we go, I need to tell you something.” Cas swallows. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice thin, and Dean hates himself. He pushes the thought away, and steps right into Cas’s personal space. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Dean says, to open. Cas blinks. “Cas. Come on. I don’t understand...how you don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?” Cas asks. Dean opens then closes his mouth. 

“Of course you can have me,” he says, his voice a pale whisper of it’s usual volume. He clears his throat. “You’ve _always_ had me. You say I changed you, but Cas, you changed me too. I--I never would’ve been able to...Cas. I love you too.”

Cas’s eyes are wider than Dean’s ever seen them, and his mouth has fallen open, a little. Dean tries not to stare. 

“Oh,” Cas says. “ _Oh.”_

“Yeah, _oh,”_ Dean says. “Can I--?”

Cas nods, still looking kind of like he’s been punched, and Dean brings up his hand, cups the back of Cas’s head, lowers his own head, guides their mouths together. Cas sighs, and Dean closes his eyes, pulling him closer. Cas responds, their mouths sliding together softly, and Dean doesn’t know how he went without this, how he could’ve known Cas for twelve years and never kissed him, never tasted him, never held him. 

They break apart but Dean doesn’t go far, just rests his forehead on Cas’s. 

“I love you so much,” Cas says. 

“I love you too,” Dean says. He can’t resist, and kisses him again, brief, before pulling away. Cas tries to chase him, and Dean laughs. “Come on, we gotta get back, gotta tell Sam we’re okay.”

“Yes,” Cas says. “Yeah, okay. Here.” He gathers Dean close, and Dean lets himself be held, buries his face in Cas’s shoulder, and somehow Dean can kind of _hear_ Cas lift his wings and take off. 

Dean almost forgot what it feels like to travel by angel-air, but with Cas holding him close, with Dean’s nose buried in Cas’s ozone-and-lavender-shampoo scent, it’s not so bad. 

When they land, Dean pulls his face away, and finds them in a dark space. Not dark like the Empty, and not even a black darkness--more of a warm purple. Something about it--Dean is certain he is safe.

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“I’ve placed us in a limbo,” Cas explains. “This is where I keep my vessel whilst I am in heaven, if I’m using it. I’ve left some of myself here with you, but the rest of me is rebuilding your body.”

“Good thing you have practice, huh?” Dean jokes, and Cas gives him a disapproving glare. 

“This had better be the last time,” he warns. 

“It will be,” Dean says. He takes Cas’s hand and squeezes. “I was, uh, thinking about getting a real job. Not hunting, you know. Something else. Not saying I wanna retire entirely, but...I dunno.”

“That sounds wonderful, Dean,” Cas says sincerely. “Maybe I should, too. I liked feeling useful working at the Gas-n-Sip.”

“Yeah, if you want,” Dean says, and then is filled with a sudden rush of insecurity. “But you know that I won’t kick you out, right? I...I want you to stay.”

“I know,” Cas says, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he tugs Dean down to press their lips together. “I’ll stay, as long as you want me.”

“Forever?” Dean says, trying for teasing but missing the mark by a thousand miles. 

“Even longer,” Cas says, solemn like an oath, and Dean knows that he will. God is their son, now. Nothing will keep them apart. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. “Can you do me a favor, with the body?”

“If you want,” Cas says, tilting his head. Dean brings his hand up to touch his left shoulder. 

“Can you…” Dean swallows. “Can you give me back the handprint?”

Cas’s smile lights up the limbo, and when Cas lays his soul back in his body, 

(gently, so gently)

Dean can still feel it, sticking in his heart.

\--

Dean knocks a _shave-and-a-haircut_ onto the bunker door, then steps back. Dean and Cas stand, shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers brushing, and the door opens. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean says, grinning. “Surprise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! Comments & kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @deanspurpleflannel! come say hi!


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